


How to cure boredom with murder

by Roosterbytes



Category: Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, GTA AU, M/M, Slow Build, mercenary au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6718708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roosterbytes/pseuds/Roosterbytes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He needed excitement, and that's exactly what he went after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why'd you become a mercenary

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how this happened. I opened a word doc, went to title it and came up with this title and this chapter. I have no idea what happened. I have a weakness for Mercenary/Bad boys/Crimelords etc AUs. I finally started one and I have no idea what'll come of it. Hold onto your butts.
> 
> Also, this title may be temporary.
> 
> **Disclaimer** _(cause why not)_ **: No one in this story, nor myself, is a murderer. Also, don't write stories after drinking a can of Monster. Don't do it kids.**

_‘Why’d you become a mercenary?’_

He didn’t exactly have a good reason, infact, he probably had the dumbest reason out of all the mercenaries he knew. He didn’t become a mercenary for fame. He wasn’t after some sort of justice. He wasn’t trying to get revenge or avenge anyone’s death. He hadn’t been in any wars or part of any police force. No, he was a mercenary because it killed his boredom.

He had become so bored with his everyday life. He woke up, went to class, worked, hung out with friends and then went to sleep only to wake up and do it all over again. Time was progressing but he felt he wasn’t making progress towards anything important. Sure, he was working towards his degree but at some point, he no longer cared. He began to dread his time there, dread each minute he felt he wasted listening to someone drone knowledge he didn’t care enough to retain. So he dropped out, got a second job, but the cycle still repeated. He needed something worth getting up for each day. Something to motivate him instead of only waking because he was obligated to.

He needed excitement, and that’s exactly what he went after.

He didn’t exactly know where to start at first. He simply droned on for a while, doing his jobs and dealing with assholes who couldn’t at least try to be nice. They complained and demanded him to do things as if he were their puppet. They treated him like garbage and ordered him around, and that’s how he got his start.

It was a single thought that he’d had before as many others had. He secretly hoped that woman would get run over the second she stepped foot outside the building or that some man would get brutally murdered. They were ‘innocent’ thoughts, he hadn’t meant any harm, but soon he got fed up with their bullshit. He didn’t want to deal with these assholes and began to truly wish some of them got gunned down or slowly and painfully bled out in a car accident.

And then the thoughts got upgraded. You can only watch so many abusive assholes get away with yelling at their spouse, or children, that cowered in fear before you wanted to ring some necks. Sure, that was motivation for him to look into becoming a mercenary. But that wasn’t the ‘turning point’. Those thoughts began to continue in mundane situations. He’d be walking down the street and begin to wonder if he could throw a knife across the street and somehow manage to get that lady in the face, or if he could shoot someone in the eye from a rooftop 5 stories up, and he found himself curious to know. He finally had an interest again, something that excited him and made his blood rush through his veins.

So yeah, he could’ve become an engineer but he sincerely doubts it’d give him the same rush as murder.


	2. Rookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd practically stumbled every step of the way towards becoming a mercenary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a random spark of inspiration and began to write this. I'm so happy to have gotten this chapter out and I'm pretty happy with how it's written. I originally wanted to write a different plot for this chapter but I think I'm happy with this new progress. I feel it gives a bit more background to what's going on and how Mark got to where he is. There's probably going to be another chapter of "progress" and then we'll bring in some other mercenaries and spice this up! I hope you guys like it.

Mark didn’t immediately go from normal citizen to mercenary overnight, as much as he wished he had. He’d practically stumbled every step of the way towards becoming a mercenary. Looking back on it, Mark was really embarrassed by all the stupid mistakes he’d made in the past four years. He was so naive and immature, making such simple mistakes but in a way, he was also proud of the progress he had made.

He remembers how he started small. How he’d started with such a childish thing, stealing candy from corner stores. You can’t get much more childish than that, at least, he didn’t think so. He’d walk into a store, browse and at first, would buy things along with the candy he’d shoved in his pockets, that’s if he didn’t get caught first. And boy, did he get caught a lot. Thank god a candy bar wasn’t worth calling the police for. But over time, he’d gotten better at it. He got caught less and managed to stuff more into his pockets, soon he didn’t even need to buy stuff to end up with a snack for the night.

That didn’t mean he didn’t feel bad the entire time he did it. He often had moments where he’d pace the sidewalk and debate walking a few blocks back to return the stolen items or actually pay for them. The guilt had only increased when he began to actually take small items from stores. It was no longer candy bars but little knick-knacks, chapsticks, deodorant, food items, whatever would fit in his pockets or hide in his coat. He’d definitely got caught a dozen or so times and was either forced to pay or return what he’d taken.

Now, the worst part was when he’d begun to try to pickpocket. Goddamn, he was bad at that. He didn’t have the agility or dexterity and he definitely didn’t have the stealth for it. He’d bumped into people who caught on quick, some raised fists, others pulled out knives and Mark had to hightail it pretty fast. He’d figured he’d come back to that when he was more prepared.

Preparation came in the form of a pocket knife and self-defense classes. He even mixed some martial arts in there from time to time. He found himself tired in a different way than before. He was no longer tired of life, although his same boring jobs made it hard not to be, he found himself physically tired but ready to tackle the next day. He was energetic and passionate about what he was doing and even began to work out, despite looking naturally muscular. Thank god for his genetics.

When he was finally in-shape, he began to get back to pickpocketing. He’d still been keeping up his ‘sprees’ in stores, he refused to call it shoplifting because the guilt crawled up under his skin at the thought, so his stealth was much higher now. He’d like to think he leveled up. And although he spent a few nights in jail, some people were pretty damn persistent when he ran, he figured he’d done a good job.

During all of his ‘training’, Mark found a new appreciation for the awful city he lived in. Crime was around every corner, but that gave him some wiggle room for mistakes and allowed him to keep his jobs because nearly everyone had some kind of criminal record. The city of Los Santos was a piece of shit, but that’s what made it interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a wonderful day friends!


	3. Breaking rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently everyone is breaking rules today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been absent for so long. I didn't have motivation and a ton of personal shit happened. I finally wrote this just now so I hope it's okay. I know it's not the best and I'm a little unsatisfied with how it went about, but it's sort of necessary and although I don't have a total plotline set, it's getting towards my next idea. :D
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it. Have a wonderful day.

The sun is rising and Mark can feel the rays hitting his back as he breathes. It’d almost be peaceful if it weren’t for the body at his feet. Lifeless eyes stare up at him and he takes a moment to reach down and close them. He’s never liked when the dead return his gaze, it always unsettled him. He straightens his back from his previous hunched over position and rolls his shoulders as he breathes, heavy and hard. The woman at his feet had put up quite a fight even though they’d been running for quite some time. Mark has to give her some credit for that, not many in the past did what she did.

After a roll of the neck, Mark takes survey of the area around him. It takes him a few moments before he realizes he doesn’t recognize any of it. That’s a bad sign. A real bad sign. He looks back down at the body below him and debates taking it with him. On one hand, he really shouldn’t leave her on someone else’s territory. On the other, she died in someone else’s territory, which means she is no longer his kill, despite him doing the work. With a sigh, he carries her over to the nearest building and props her against the wall. He stares at her for several moments before removing the papers from his back pocket. He doesn’t want to hand over this job, but he has no choice. He’s broken a rule and the longer he stands around, the more likely it is that he’s going to get shot by the person who owns the territory. He folds the papers up once more, refusing to look at the reward he’d be given and slips it into the woman’s pocket before laying her hand across her lap. Hopefully they’ll get the message that Mark meant no harm.

He’s broken one rule, but that’s not the only one he breaks.

Invading another’s territory unless business is involved is bad enough, but no, Mark had to go and shoot another Mercenary. His day just kept getting better and better.

The sun was beginning to set and Mark really just wanted to finish this hit so he could go home and play a new game that had been released. He’d been looking forward to it all day and honestly, he really wanted to just get up and leave his post, but he couldn’t. Stupid contracts and merc bullshit.

He did a sweep of the city, looking at the rooftops around him only to notice a sniper on a rooftop not too far from him. What the fuck did they think they were doing in his territory? Mark watched through his sight as the figure stood up. Wrong move. Mark lined it up, aiming to shoot the man as a warning. It was as he pulled the trigger that the figure held up something that looked like a book or a stack of papers. Ah, fuck.

He had his gun disassembled in a quick fashion, he’s pretty sure he even broke his previous record, before stuffing it away and gathering the rest of his gear. He made quick work of the ladders heading down from the roof and flung himself into the front seat of his vehicle. Granted, he probably could’ve run there but he wasn’t about to risk the figure bleeding out before he got there. He’s not entirely sure where he shot since the figure changed stances at the time of his shot.

Knowing his territory gave him a huge advantage and he’d found the rooftop the figure had been standing on. Despite the sun having disappeared, he could see the figure laying on the ground, slightly curled into itself. Mark made quick work of jogging over to the curled figure before he grabbed their shoulder and turned them towards him. He was instantly met with a gun to his face and a pained hiss from the man below him. His brows were furrowed, eyes squinted in pain as he stared up at Mark.

“Ya fuckin’ shot me, ye bastard.” The man hissed, pulling his gun away from Mark’s face, using it instead to help himself sit up. 

“Didn’t see the papers till after I made the shot.” Mark replied sheepishly, helping the man sit up.

“First ya leave a body in my territory, then you shoot me. Yer on a fuckin’ roll Fischbach.” The man chuckles lightly. His words make Mark freeze for a moment. He’d shot a fucking mercenary. The thin man below him was the mercenary that owned the territory beside his. This was Septic Eye, who despite only being in the business for a three years, was quickly catching up to Mark’s experience. This man was a ruthless killer with a wicked headshot and he’d managed to shoot the guy. Mark’s going to be dead as soon as Septic recovers, hell, he may even finish Mark now.

“Ar’ ya gonna help me up or not?” Septic asks, slightly annoyed. Mark nods his head calmly before helping the man to his feet. He’s got one hand wrapped around his side and the other still holding a pistol.

“Should I take you back to your territory?” Mark asks, watching as the man holsters his pistol and begins to pack away his sniper.

“Hell no. If they see you with me like this, yer done.” Septic laughs before a pained groan escapes his lips.

“Let me pack that up, I’ll take you to my safe house so we can patch you up.” Mark suggests, striding over to Septic and beginning to pack his equipment. As each item gets put away, Mark finds himself impressed by the gear the other man has obtained. It’s a high quality sniper rifle. Steady grip, good sight. Septic sighs and simply nods. He doesn’t seem thrilled, but that could be because he’s just broken a rule as well. Don’t let another Merc see you vulnerable, no matter how much pain you’re in.

Apparently everyone’s breaking rules today.


	4. Getting a little too close to the enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not entirely sure he knows what the fuck just happened or why he did it but hey, he got his bounty back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are people even still interested in this story anymore at this point? I've gone who knows how long without updating and even still, it's an eh chapter, at least I think so. But I finally got some motivation to write and bam, here is this thing. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> ~~(I've become increasingly paranoid about my dialogue lately so I hope it's okay.)~~

Mark had a large multitude of safe houses, some he could get rid of with just one click of a button, which was definitely a safety hazard. You can only have so many pushable buttons in one place before you accidently hit one, which is why all those buttons were with Bob, but that’s not the point. The point is he was taking another big named mercenary to one of his safe houses, alone. Granted, Mark had an advantage. Septic was indeed injured but there was a possibility he could be faking the extenses of his injury. He could be trying to get the drop on Mark by faking vulnerability in order to gain Mark’s territory regardless if he broke a rule or not. That didn’t make much sense though considering Septic had brought the bounty poster with him. He’d have to dwell on that more later.

For now, he’s setting the thin man on a couch Mark doesn’t remember buying. Maybe Wade had updated the safe houses again. Septic sighs, muscles tensing as he settles as comfortably as he can. Mark’s not entirely sure why he put him there if he was going to have to move him anyway, it’s not like he was going to leave Septic out of his sights while he goes and fishes for the First Aid kit. Mark sighs before helping the man up once more.

“I’m not about to leave you out of my sights. C’mon.” Mark explains although considering the man hadn’t complained he’s pretty sure he figured that out.

The trek to the bathroom isn’t too long but it’s filled with an awkward silence. There isn’t much to say between them considering they’re technically ‘enemies’ and you normally don’t bring said enemy into your territory to one of your safe houses to patch them up. Usually if you shoot another Merc, it’s to kill them and gain their territory. 

Septic detaches himself from Mark and sits on the edge of the tub, clearly not liking the thought of being boxed in if he had sat on the toilet seat. Mark doesn’t blame him, he’d probably do the same thing. He begins to gather the items he’ll likely need to use to treat the bullet wound.

“You got some thread n’ a needle?” Septic interrupts the silence, watching Mark’s every move.

“Yeah but I’m sure as shit not going to trust you with it.” Mark says casually.

“And you think I’m going ta trust you wit’ it?” Septic replies.

“You’re going to have to.” Septic remains silent after this, going back to watching Mark’s every move. It’s a little creepy if he’s being honest, but it’s not like he expected any different. Once he’s got everything he feels he’ll need, he turns to the smaller male.

“Take your shirt off.” He motions upwards with a finger.

“You trying ta get me out of my clothes, Doc?” Septic jokes before removing his shirt and placing it beside him. Mark’s eyes sweep over his pale torso, taking note of the dark scars that etch his skin. There’s a dozen or so bullet holes and even a few slashes ranging in various sizes.  
“Like what you see?” Septic’s voice is seductive, an arm slung over his shoulder in attempts to do a sexy pose but the shit-eating grin on his face breaks the illusion. Mark tears his eyes away and begins to examine the open wound he’d inflicted earlier. It still looks wet and the smeared blood almost masks the angry color the surrounding skin has taken. Thankfully there doesn’t seem to be any internal bleeding and Mark doubts Septic would be this cocky if his organs were damaged.

Mark washes his hands and takes the scalpel he’d been disinfecting. The wound is pretty open but he’s going to need a bit of wiggle room to clean it properly. Thankfully there was an exit wound which he’ll need to take care of afterwards. Mark maneuvers his way inbetween Septic’s legs before crouching down so he’s relatively eye-level with the wound. He’s a little too close to Septic’s dick then he’s comfortable with but that’s the only way he can effectively see the wound.

“Don’t do anything funny.” His tone is deadly serious and Mark can feel his eyes watching his every move. He nods briefly in response before peering closer at the wound as he cuts it open a little more. He’s switching between cutting with the scalpel and damp gauze pads to wash away the blood that accumulates. Septic doesn’t even appear to be fazed by the pain it’s probably causing him, his breath doesn’t even hitch. The only sign that he’s in pain is his tense muscles.

Once he’s got enough room to properly clean the wound, Mark puts the scalpel in another container to disinfect for when he needs to open the back wound more if need be. He takes out several gauze pads before soaking them with disinfectant. He dabs at the wound, watching it bubble as it clears away the bacteria inside. He uses his other hand to press some of the skin on the other merc’s side up to slightly stretch the wound. His brain takes note of how soft the other’s skin is before switching back to the task at hand. 

Numerous gauze pads fill the tub behind Septic as Mark goes about disinfecting the wound. Several long Q-tips are thrown into the mix as he finishes clearing as much as he can from this side.

“I need you to turn around.” Mark states, meeting ocean blue eyes as he looks up. They seem to harden at his words.

“Not going to happen.” His words are harsh, untrusting despite all that Mark had just done.

“Look, either you turn around and let me take care of it or it’s going to get worse.” Mark sighs. It takes a moment where the two stare each other down before Septic lets out a sigh of his own and reluctantly turns around, revealing the wound on his back. Mark casts a glance over the expanse of the smaller man’s back, noting more wounds. Some are bullet holes, some are more slashes, but there’s a thick one near the top of his shoulders at the base of his neck. He literally got stabbed in the back.

With eyes cast back down to the wound which is thankfully more open than the one on the front. No need for the scalpel which Mark is thankful for, he’d rather not tussle with him. He grabs a handful of new gauze pads and gets to work.

 

After both wounds are clean and stitched up, he admires his handy-work for a moment before covering them with some gauze pads he tapes the Septic’s body. The man had been quiet the entire time as he watched Mark work.

“Y’know, I can’t figure you out.” Septic speaks, eyeing him as if he were a test subject.

“Good. I prefer it that way.” Mark replies, beginning to pick up the items strewn about.

“I guess I should say thanks, so uh.. Thanks.” Septic mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, eyes averting Mark’s own.

“You’re welcome?” It feels strange on his tongue. This whole encounter is strange. Mark would rather they go back to Septic jokingly flirting then this. He watches the man throw his shirt back on before standing.

“Let me know when I can repay my debt. The sooner the better, preferably.” Septic states.

“Understood. I’ll let you know.” Mark replies before watching the man leave. He’s not entirely sure he knows what the fuck just happened or why he did it but hey, he got his bounty back.


	5. Septic joins the team!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t until a few months later that Mark finally had a reason to get in touch with Septic again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been three weeks and this is short. I'm incredibly sorry for taking so long. I make this story up as I go and finding motivation and inspiration for this has been incredibly hard on top of life stuff. ( ~~More excuses, really Rooster?~~ ) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

It wasn’t until a few months later that Mark finally had a reason to get in touch with Septic again. Normally he could solo bounties and the ones he couldn’t, Bob and Wade helped him with. Now, he didn’t exactly like asking for help. He felt it made him weak, even though he knew it didn’t, but in a world of Mercenaries, Gangs and Druglords, it made him feel that way.

Getting in contact with Septic was a pain. Very little information was known about him and the only person who actually knew him was Pewdiepie, and Mark wasn’t about to step into that territory. So he had to use other tactics to catch the man’s attention. He had sent Wade into the other man’s territory to get him. Mark would’ve gone himself but any man under Septic’s orders may have seen him as a threat, and although Wade was a Mercenary, he was under Mark’s order. He had no ‘right’ to claim territory unless he was on his own.

 

Once Septic was in Mark’s territory, the men met up in the Safe House Mark had bandaged the other man in months ago. Granted it was the only Safe House Septic knew about but it was a little weird to talk about the bounty when in just the other room he’d been incredibly close to the other man. But the bounty was a business manner so Mark shut those thoughts out, even if he still had so many questions about their encounter.

The bounty was on a man named Alexander of Brennenburg and anyone under him. Mark had heard the name float around on the streets and some from the news, although they covered a lot up. News stations always did that. They made Alexander’s terrible crimes into simple bank robberies, which he had done, and kidnapping. 

The only thing Mark didn’t like about the bounty was the bonus. Granted, he didn’t have to do it, but few people cause pass up that kind of money and although Mark didn’t really need it, he may in the future, not to mention Septic got a cut. The bonus was written simply, _Go to the warehouses and save as many as you can_ , and with Alexander’s reputation, he wasn’t looking forward to it. But that was a problem for later on, for now they had to gather as much information and locations as possible.

 

With Septic’s help it went much faster than it would have with just the three of them, which Mark was thankful for, considering every day Alexander took more and more people. They had family in this god-forsaken city and Mark would rather die than see something happen to them.

Large maps were spread out across the walls of the Safe House. Multiple thumb-tacks were stuck in the wall to mark locations Mark was pretty sure they’d all memorized while sticky notes were plastered in various areas with a multitude of information on them. Although all that was behind them, the real information sat on the table in front of them. Planning, strategies, codes, equipment needed and possible scenarios sat scattered about on the table in front of them. They looked intensely over it all as if they were four men playing poker instead of planning mass murder.

Mark wasn’t too thrilled about the teams they’d decided on. Bob was going to stay at the main safe house, being their eyes and ears. Wade and Tyler, another Mercenary friend, were to head to one location on the south side while Mark and Septic went to one on the east side. They were close enough to provide back-up to one another, if need be, but far enough away to not be expected. Each team was to scout and plant cameras before heading in later on. It sounded easy enough but Mark was working with someone he knew basically nothing about. Septic probably had his own tactics and Mark was sure they’d probably clash at some point. Regardless, this is how it was and he’d just have to work with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me and being incredibly patient! I do read your comments and they mean a whole lot. Have a wonderful day!


	6. Author Note : Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say something.

Hello lovelies,

I want to thank you all for putting up with my sporadic and dragged out updates. I know a new chapter should be out by now, and I was sitting here trying to start it, but I couldn't. I am genuinely sorry for these things. I hate that my updates are all over the place and it's a wait for something that may not even be what you want. I don't want to keep giving you excuses/reasons instead of updates but unfortunately that's how my life is.

I do want to explain why it's this way. I'm not expecting anyone to "forgive" me or accept my "reasoning". I don't expect you all to keep waiting on me either, but I will still work on this story. So if you stick with me, thank you, and if not, thank you for sticking with me thus far.

I have Depersonalization Disorder. I am in a constant state of in reality and not in reality. I don't know what day it is most of the time, or even what time it is. Time has no meaning to me. I know what tomorrow and yesterday are. I know what today is. But.. there's just no meaning. A day in Reality feels like a week has gone by. A week, a month. A month, three months. Time is just irrelevant to me. I know what it is and I can follow by what everyone else goes by, but everything is too fast and too slow all at once. It's 11:22pm and it feels like 3am on a Thursday night in the fall. I'm pretty sure today is Saturday but that's only because my Mom was home today.

So it's been 16 days since I last updated, but for me, it's only been a handful.

This does not dismiss my erratic update schedule. I am at fault and should try harder. I will try harder.

Thank you for listening. Take care lovelies.


	7. Brutality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In that moment, Mark had never feared Septic more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I finally got a chapter out. I ended up reading some of the stories I was subscribed to and it seemed to give me a good kick into writing this. I was interrupted yesterday so I hope it still flows correctly.
> 
> **WARNING : Blood and Gore along with some graphic details are in this chapter. Please be careful reading.**
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me through this. I hope you enjoy.

Another body fell to the ground the same way Mark’s stomach dropped at the sight. The small brunette boy, probably no older than 10, crumpled to the floor. The gunshot still rang in Mark’s ears while the boy’s scared face was imprinted in his mind.

Mark cast his eyes away from the lifeless hazel gaze and turned them to the boy’s shooter. His grip on the gun in his hands tightened and soon he was firing his own bullets back at the other man. He could feel the rage coursing through his veins. The power as he pulled the trigger. It took a moment for Mark to realize his target was dead and he’d been shooting the man’s corpse. Mark took a deep breath before reloading his weapon and turning his gaze to meet Septic’s, who appeared to be impassive to all that had just happened.

Neither spoke a word as they crouched low, moving into the next room, leaving the screams of men and women behind them. They’d come back for them when the building was secure, but for now, they had to ignore their pleas for help no matter how much he wished to comply.

 

Bodies racked up with every room they went through and after every room, Mark would look over to see the state of his partner. Septic was always indifferent, even as he killed man after man. Mark wondered what was going on in his head, wondered what had happened to make him this ruthless killer.

It wasn’t until they reached one of the main rooms, that Septic reacted. Mark saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. Septic had tensed up. His jaw was set, teeth clamped down on one another. Mark wasn’t sure what to make of it and frankly he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Men were shooting at them.

Mark managed to get off several shots before having to holster his gun. Septic had shot a few times but apparently had become frustrated with his weapon. He had tucked it away before vaulting over their cover and storming over to the enemy in a mad dash. In an instant he had a knife pulled out and was fighting in close range with some of the men. There was barely any room for Mark to get off any shots, so he too put away his weapon to pull out a pistol before vaulting over their cover.

 

Blood splattered on Mark’s face and he let it, only wiping at his eyes if he needed to see. The man before him was staggering quite heavily from multiple blows to his body that Mark had managed to land from both his pistol and the knife in his hands. He was about to deliver the final blow when a hand came out from behind the man’s neck. He watched the man’s eyes widen as Septic appeared behind him, holding a knife to his throat. Septic leaned into to whisper in the man’s ear, whose eyes seemed to widen even more before the knife slid across his throat. Mark watched Septic, who was watching the man who’d crumbled to the floor, desperately trying to keep pressure on his wound. 

In that moment, Mark had never feared Septic more. The man was the embodiment of pure rage. His eyebrows were furrowed, jaw so tight Mark could see the veins in his neck, chest heaving with each seething breath and a white-knuckled grip on the bloody weapon in his hand. Mark cast a glance to the man’s eyes which were now a stormy grey that roared pure hatred and rage. Mark quickly averted his eyes and began to walk away towards the last room. He was about to open the door when he heard a sickening crunch, and then another. Mark looked back towards Septic to see him repeatedly stomping the man’s head in. Mark almost pitied whoever got in Septic’s way from here out. Surely they’d get a death like this because whatever they had done, had struck Septic right down to the bone.

 

Neither spoke about the first incident and to be honest, Mark wasn’t sure he wanted to. Septic was still coiled up like a spring on a Bouncing Betty. His attacks held more power, his gunshots less accurate as if to cause the most pain and Mark would’ve worried about their safety if Septic didn’t always finish his kills in time. And he did, with a knife in hand to slit across their throats.


	8. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red flowed down the drain as the two washed themselves off. They’d decided it would be a good idea to do so before going to rescue the prisoners in the various rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this idea the other day and couldn't wait to write it. It turned out a bit differently then the idea I jotted out but I like it. I'm excited that I updated this story and another today! Yay for progress!

Red flowed down the drain as the two washed themselves off. They’d decided it would be a good idea to do so before going to rescue the prisoners in the various rooms. They didn’t need to frighten them anymore then they already were. Frightened animals had a tendency to lash out and humans weren’t much different.

As they made their way through each room, they divided the prisoners into two groups. One would follow Mark to safety, while the other would stay with Jack. Every time Mark lead his group to the safe vehicle outside, all he could think about was the faces in Jack’s group of the people who couldn’t be saved. They’d been experimented on too severely and Jack had to give them the mercy they deserved because Mark couldn’t. He couldn’t bear watching another fall like the boy who had been shot earlier. He’s sure his group knew what was happening to them, even if none of them said so.

 

When they’d reached the room that started Septic’s rampage, Septic had asked if they could wash up again. It was a strange request but Mark obliged and soon they were splitting up the prisoners once more. It appeared Septic was avoiding a certain area but Mark didn’t get the chance to find out why. All that could be saved were with him and he had to escort them to safety just as he’d done before.

When Mark returned, he saw a Septic crouched in front of a small girl. He had his hands on the sides of her shoulders, clearly trying to calm her down. Mark hadn’t expected to see Septic give them such a nice mercy. He took a quick survey of the room, realizing she was the only one left. He didn’t want t see her die, so he instead busied himself with the warehouse blueprint, crossing off the rooms they’d been to. Mark could hear them despite how softly they spoke. It almost made him feel like he was eavesdropping on a conversation he had no part in.

“How did you end up here?” Septic asked.

“Uncle Steve came over to take me to the zoo an we got ice cream. I thought you said Uncle Steve distappeared Daddy?” The little girl spoke softly and her words caused Mark to look over at them. Septic’s whole body was tense. Mark could see Septic grind his teeth for a moment before he spoke just as softly as he had before.

“He did Sammy-girl. Tell me what happened afterwards, okay?”

“Okay Daddy. I fell asleep in the car on the way home and woke up in a scary place. I didn’t like it Daddy. I wanted to go home.” The girl shook in Septic’s arms and he patted her back before she threw up to the side of them. Septic simply comforted her and wiped the bile from her lips.

“I know sweetie, I know. Can you tell me what happened to Evie?” Septic asked softly.

“Uncle Steve said Evie was sleeping and said I could go to the zoo.” Septic didn’t seem to like that answer.

“Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?” She sounded on the verge of tears and Septic hushed her gently.

“No, no. I could never be mad at you Sammy-girl.” He responded, stroking her hair. She seems to cry anyway and throws herself at his chest, arms wrapping around Septic’s neck. He continues to stroke her hair and hold her tight as she nuzzles her face in his neck. He begins to plant kisses on her head and Mark wants to cry himself.

“I never wanted you to get involved, I just wanted to keep you safe..” Mark hears Septic say and he sounds so defeated.

“You know I love you, Sam. I love you so much sweetheart.”

“I love you too Daddy.” Sam sniffles and Mark wants to tear his eyes away. This sounds too much like a goodbye and he’s hoping it’s not.

“Hey Sammy, you want to hear a story about the Brave Princess? I know I’ve been promising to tell you.” Septic offers and Mark watches Sam’s head nod.

“Once upon a time, there was a brave princess named Sam-” He begins.

“That’s my name! You always use my name.” Sam giggles.

“That’s because you’re such a wonderful little girl. Princess Sam was the bravest in the land! She fought dragons and trolls-”

“But trolls are scary!” 

“Trolls are scary, but Princess Sam was brave. She was so brave even though the trolls were so mean to her. They hurt Princess Sam while her Daddy was away.” Septic sighs, still stroking her and Mark watches as she gets sick again.

“I’m sorry Daddy.”

“It’s okay. Princess Sam was strong though. Even the trolls kept hurting Princess Sam, she never once gave up. When her Daddy came back home, he was worried about his beautiful princess. He sent all the Kingdom’s finest knights to look for her.” Septic explained.

“One time when he went out looking, he found Princess Sam and saved her from all the trolls. The trolls wouldn’t hurt her anymore and he picked up Princess Sam and brought her home. They watched Spongebob and ate all her favorite foods.”

“Even cake and cookies?”

“Especially cake and cookies.”

“Did they live happily ever after?”

“Yeah, they lived happily ever after.” Mark diverted his eyes, knowing what would soon follow.

“I love you Sam, don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay Daddy. I love you too.”

“I know Sammy, I know.” Mark listened as a loud crunch echoed the room, followed by Septic’s cries. When Mark looked over, Septic had moved to sit on the floor, holding his daughter’s lifeless body to his chest as he stroked her bloodied hair.

Mark tore his gaze away and left Septic to grieve. He finished up their mission, gathering the remaining survivors and giving mercy to those who needed it. He felt numb to it all, Septic’s cries still echoing in his mind.

When he returned to Septic’s side, he saw the girl laid out on a blanket, eyes still open. Her iris’ were two rings. The inner, a ocean blue while the outer was a lime green. Her veins were black and her skin so pale. Mark watched as Septic closed her eyes and pressed a final kiss to her forehead.

“I love you Sammy-girl..” Septic whispered before wrapping the blanket around her. He then stood, lifting her up to carry her bridal style against his chest. Mark didn’t say a word as he followed behind Septic to their vehicle.

Mark got in the driver’s side, buckling in and starting the car. He looked to Septic beside him, still holding his little girl and Mark soon averted his eyes.

“She’s coming home..” Was all Septic said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a monster.


	9. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was obvious Septic was human, but it never seemed like he was human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I wrote this in bursts and constantly kept thinking I uploaded it because I normally only do them in one session. ^^' Guess what I didn't upload those 3-4 times.. But anyway! I finished this and am _finally_ uploading it, for real this time! I added a little something in hopes to make up for the time it took. I hope you all enjoy it. (;

Septic had such a brutal reputation. He was always painted as the merciless killer who got off on murder. Took any job he could and finished it fast and efficiently. So for Mark to see this new side of Septic, it was.. Strange.

It was obvious Septic was human, but it never seemed like he was human. Even when Mark had been bandaging him all those months ago, he’d never once thought Septic really had emotions. It gave him a lot more to think about and honestly, he’s not entirely sure how to act with Septic anymore. They’d always spoken so little, unless it was about the bounty, but now Septic had a personal tie to it. If Mark thought he could do this job without Septic, he would and even if he could, Septic wouldn’t just leave.

Thankfully he had some time to think things over in regards to Septic. The man had gone home with someone from his city to bury Sam at home and that thought twisted something in his chest.

To Mark’s surprise, Septic had returned the next day. He looked like he hadn’t slept since Mark had last saw him and honestly, it worried him. The man had arrived at their shared safe house, asked Mark where their information was and took it into his room, closing the door.

 

To say Septic became consumed by the bounty was an understatement. He spent all his time with their information, constantly working and researching. They had yet to find another warehouse but at the rate Septic was working, they’d have one by the end of the week.

Mark watched him work himself to exhaustion. He rarely ate or slept and Mark had to actually remind him to eat, which turned into Mark making food for him. He’d put the plate in front of Septic and continuously check to see if it was eaten.

When Septic finally crashed for the first time, Mark felt relieved. The man was passed out on the couch, papers sprawled in front of him and a half eaten sandwich beside them. Seeing Septic sleeping was.. odd. Normally Septic slept in his room, but that was before the warehouse.

The man looked at peace. His face was relaxed, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the armrest. Soft snores fell from his lips and it was music to his ears. The man was finally sleeping and Mark allowed himself a moment to relax.

When Mark got back onto his feet, grabbing a blanket and making his way back over to the sleeping man. Septic was now resting on his back, shirt risen up his chest. The scar from Mark’s bullet all those months ago, stood out on his pale flesh. It captured Mark’s attention and he couldn’t stop himself from looking over the man’s body.

He was slim which made his muscles more defined and although Mark wouldn't admit it, he was really enjoying the sight. He swept his gaze from the man’s torso to his sleeping face. He didn't really look relaxed. Sure his face had softened but not by much. He still looked tense and stressed out, not to mention the deep purpley-pink that curved under his closed eyes.

With a sigh, Mark tore his gaze away from Septic, placing the blanket on top of him. Within seconds, there was a hand clutching Mark’s collar and breath ghosting over his own lips. Septic’s tired eyes, still foggy from sleep, met his. It took a moment for Septic to recognize him and when he did, he let go of Mark’s collar and fell back against the couch with a sigh. Mark had only now realized he’d been holding his breath. Through the entire exchange, his heart had been racing and his brain had been fixated on those ocean blue eyes. God they were beautiful.

“T’ought you were an enemy.. What were you doin’ anyway?” Septic croaked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Putting a blanket on you.” Mark replied. Septic seemed confused by this.

“What? Why?”

“Because you were sleeping?” Mark was beginning to get confused as well.

“Oh..” Was all he got as a reply.

 

It seems Mark was destined to have all kinds of confusing interactions with Septic. When Mark had returned to their safehouse with food, he found Septic sitting on the couch, controller in one hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other. Did he forget to mention Septic was in his boxers and a t-shirt, because that’s a pretty important piece.

“What’re you doing?” Was the first thing that spilled from Mark’s mouth.

“Aaaaayyyy, you’re back! Didju bring me some cookies?” Septic asked, trying to ‘casually’ put the controller on the table but instead slammed it down and knocked his bottle on the couch.

“Uh.. no? How much have you had to drink?” Mark set the bags down, walking over to Septic who was wobbling on his own two feet.

“How much’ve youu had to drink?” Septic giggled, lightly swatting his hand at Mark’s chest.

“Clearly not as much as you. Are you drunk?” Mark did his best to hold the wiggling man still.

“No. What kind of Irishman gets drunk after..” Septic paused, turning his head to the table where atleast a dozen bottles sat.

“After… 1.. 3.. 6..” He whispered, pointing a weak finger at the bottles he was counting.

“Uh-huh.. How about we put you to bed?” Mark suggested.

“Ooooo, kinky. You gonna man-handle me, big boy?” Septic purred, winking at the end. Mark did his best not to react, but his face definitely turned red.

“Do you like t’at? Me callin you big boy? Or ar ya just inta dirty talk?” Septic slyly grinned, placing his hands on Mark’s chest before sliding them upwards to rest on his shoulders. Mark restrained the shudder crawling up his back and cleared his throat.

“I think you should go lay down, sleep some of this off.” Mark backed away a bit, enough for Septic’s arms to fall to his sides. Septic huffed before a smirk formed on his face. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Mark’s lips, before turning to brush his ass against Mark’s crotch.

“Whatever you say, Warfstache. I’ll be good.” Septic grinned, winking over his shoulder before stumbling towards his room. Mark stood frozen there past the sound of the bedroom door opening and then closing. He heard a thud but didn’t move, his mind was still reeling from the entire exchange, trying to process everything that had just happened. Septic was a flirty, sexual drunk who had just kissed him and brushed his ass against him.. Maybe a shower would be nice.

 

When Mark finally mustered up the courage after deciding it’d been a few good hours since Septic had went to lay down, he walked to the man’s bedroom.

“Septic? I’m coming in, okay?” Mark knocked before opening the door slowly but loud enough so Septic knew he was there.

On one hand, Septic was in the bed, covers over him. On the other, his chest was bare, boxers and shirt thrown to the ground as the sheet laid just above his hips. And let’s not forget to mention the messily tied belt wrapped around one of his hands. Mark slowly backed up, as his mind raked over the scene before him, before closing the door and putting his back to it.

Septic was going to be the end of him.


	10. Scatterbrained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He really needed to focus on what his partner was doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month. It's almost 3am and I don't even know if I want to continue this story anymore. I had this whole idea in my head and it's sort of fallen apart because of how just.. awful I'd written it. The inspiration and motivation have just.. fizzled out. Maybe I should stop doing chapter stories. My life doesn't seem to give me enough time to be able to finish a story and still make it decent. Leaving this up to you all. I'll keep trying if you want me to.

Another sickening, wet crunch met Mark’s ears and he cringed a little at the sound. No matter how many times he’d heard it, it was always like the first time. He could imagine the person’s head under that black army boot as it stomped down over and over. He knew what mess it’d become, overworked into mush as Septic stomped and stomped. Mark had tried to stop him, the person was already dead, they needed to move on but Septic had only turned to Mark with the look of a beast, shoved him away with his gun and returned to stomping. So Mark just let it happen, he always did.

It’s no surprise that Septic had ‘joined’ them. When they weren’t on business, Septic wasn’t too bad to be around. He was still closed off like a sealed vault, but sometimes he’d wind down a bit and have fun. Bob and Wade sure seemed to like him after Mark’s story about him being drunk--lots of laughs were had at that one, but it wasn’t just that. Septic was a strong ally, and with everything that had happened with Alexander, you wanted to be on his side quick.

Septic hadn’t minded and honestly hung too closely around Mark for quite some time after Sam’s death. Mark had always figured the man was making sure he didn’t spill about Sam but after multiple reassurances, it seemed like Septic just liked Mark’s company. So it only made sense and now, they were stronger than ever.

Septic had become his partner, in what felt like more ways than one. Mark played the housewife most times. Mostly making sure the man ate, drank and slept instead of working himself to the bone. It would be oddly domestic if it wasn’t for the fact they were both making plans on how to murder people. But imagine if it was. Mark the stereotypic housewife, wearing his pink apron after cooking dinner and Septic coming home from work, undoing his tie and taking off his jacket..

Another sick, wet crunch met his ears and Mark shook his head to clear the fog that ridiculous thought had created. He really should pay more attention on what his partner was _doing_ then playing housewife in his make believe world. God.. him in a pink apron? Ble- Actually, he looked kinda hot. He should try that sometime. But not now, definitely not now.

“Whatcha thinking about Warfy?” Septic whispered in his ear and it made Mark visibly jump in the air, head tucking into his shoulders.

“Goddamnit man!” Mark hissed, facing his smirking partner.

“Oooo.. musta been good to have you that riled up, eh lad?” Septic chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows. Mark simply let out a groan and then a huff as he rolled his eyes.

“Anyway Warf” Septic began, reaching into his pocket before hanging jingling keys from his finger in front of Mark’s face. “Look what I’ve got.” Mark’s grin matched his equally excited partner’s grin. They’d just scored big time! Two bounties down in one go!

“You’re a sneaky sonofabitch.” Mark chuckled, low in his chest.  
“The sneakiest!” Septic said in a childish voice. Times like these made Mark wonder how Septic even got into this whole mess--made him wonder if Septic had been like him. A college kid disinterested in the things they were teaching, who just needed some excitement in his life. And that thought never failed to raise many more questions to his ever-growing list.


	11. Gambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is a game, but that doesn't mean you should gamble with the lives of those you love and hold dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was told to continue this. Apparently not sleeping makes me super creative or some shit. I don't really know but I am so tired. :D 
> 
> This was written on my phone so there will probably be typos and missing words. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.

It happened all of a sudden one day. It was like that scene out of Tangled, in a way. Mark would've laughed at the cliche if it weren't for the fact he was currently tied to a chair with Septic at his side, being hung up by two chains.

Mark watched the man spit blood onto the cold concrete floor below him and Mark took a moment to access the damage of his partner. He's pretty sure if the cuffs around his wrists weren't there, Septic would be slumped on the floor by now, but the man held his head high and even sneered at the man who had just punched him with brass knuckles. Septic was sporting all kinds of bruises and probably broken bones, mostly broken ribs if Mark had to guess. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but Mark couldn't really tell. It was possible that the brass knuckles bruises the socket instead.

"You think this is funny?! You think this is some kind of game?!" The man yelled, raising his fists and slamming a brass knuckle into Septic's jaw. Mark winced at the sound but Septic seemed unfazed, doing his best to smirk despite the pain.

Mark wanted to bash his own head against a wall when Septic had the guts to spit blood in the man's face before letting out a laugh.

"Life is a game. Scum like you are the viruses that ruin it." Septic grinned, seeing the man's face tense up more, veins bulging out of his head.

"You fucking punk! Think you own the street! Think you're so untouchable! I hate cocky bastards like you!" The man growled before slamming another fist into Septic's face, this time into his temple and Mark watched the second of fear flash on his partner's face before he passed out. The man reared back, ready to go again.

"Enough Dragor. You are dismissed." Another man Mark hadn't noticed before said. Dragor growled but did as told and backed off, leaving the room they were in.

"It appears one of my men has gone a bit too far on poor Septic here. Perhaps you would like to rethink our deal before worse things happen to your partner, Warfstache." The man spoke, a thin, wiry smile on his face as he tipped up Septic's head. Mark tried not to show the worry and sickness in his gut at how limp his body was.

"If you think we're going to ne-"

"Don't be so hasty Warfstache. Allow yourself to think about it while you wait to see _if_ your partner wakes up." The man had that same smile on his face as he undid Septic's shackles while humming what appeared to be a pleasant melody. He barely caught Septic's limp body as it fell from the shackles holding it up.

"Oh my. He really is out of it, isn't he? It'd be a shame if he doesn't wake up. Such a young boy caught up in all this because of your mistake. Tsk tsk. You just had to get greedy, didn't you Warfstache?" The man turned to face Mark who was doing his best not to grit his teeth. Yes, it was his fault Septic was in this situation, but he didn't need this asshole rubbing salt into the wound and trying to act concerned.

Septic was placed on the ground, chained to a different pair of shackles. Mark briefly got to see his chafed wrists before cold metal was wrapped around them once more. The man simply stood, pleasant smile on his face as he walked out, leaving the two mercenaries alone with a wave of his fingers.

 

Mark doesn't know how long he's been sitting here staring at Septic's body, watching the rise and fall of his chest and listening to some of the bloody wheezes that made him cringe. He'd done this to his partner for some extra cash. Stole from the wrong guys and now they're using Septic as a piñata to get him to pay them back what he stole.

On one hand, Mark didn't want those assholes to win, on the other, he didn't want Septic to die. He knew the right choice, the obvious choice, but his pride and anger were keeping him from opening his mouth with the words they wanted to hear.

The door opened in the midst of his thoughts and he saw the same smirking man from before. He feigned a look of worry, placing his thin, ring adorned hand over his heart.

"Oh my. Poor Septic still isn't awake after all these hours. It appears he's not going to wake. He may just die here, bleeding out in front of you and as his body sits there and starts to rot, you'll be stuck with the physical reminder that his death was all your fault. His blood is on your hands, as will be his death. I hope you look forward to sitting in this room as your dear partner starts to decay." The man smiles once more, going over to Septic and checking his pulse.

"Such a weak pulse, he shouldn't last much longer now. I'd say your final words before it's too late. Even if he can't hear you, maybe it'll give you some kind of peace of mind while you watch him die." The man spoke as if trying to console him and it only made Mark angrier. The man's words were striking his cords and he knew it. Mark's belly was swelling with guilt while his mind fought between Septic and the asshole before him. He wanted to save Septic with every fiber of his being.. But what if it was too late now? No, no, it couldn't be. After all the shit they'd gone through, Septic wouldn't die by some asshole with brass knuckles. He'd had worse. Mark knows, he remembers those scars, even if Septic never talked about them. Septic would pull through. He had to, Mark needed him to.


	12. Author's note : Abandoning Work

Hello lovelies,

I’ve been meaning to update for ages and now I’m updating for a different reason.

I had no plan for these stories. They started with an idea that I made up as I went along and although I had plenty of ideas to write with, they never went with the story I was writing at the time. That’s one reason I mainly stuck to short one “chapter” stories. I have to write everything all at once, or I lose the headspace I was in and have to try to refind it, which normally isn’t the same as the original.

But that’s not really why I’m updating now. I’m updating now to tell you these stories : Reset, Learn to love me and How to cure boredom with murder, are going to be unfinished and abandoned.

It’s been way too long between updates and I’ve constantly thought about abandoning them anyway. Life had been getting in the way so much that I had no energy or motivation to even write a sentence of the next chapter.

I had seen a comment under one of Mark’s videos that made me question myself and made me feel uncomfortable with what I’ve been writing. I discussed it with some friends and although I know I don’t take the ship seriously and mostly use it as a creative outlet, the comment still rattled me. It still does. 

But the thing that made my decision final, was Mark. His video “I want to believe : Revenge of the Septiplier” made me _really_ question myself. I had felt even worse about what I’d written and had been writing that I wanted to delete everything. I still do.. And I probably will. 

To me, the ship was a fantasy. It was a Fairytale relationship that I adored and still do. But I don’t want to write it anymore. There is nothing wrong with it, I don’t want to discourage anyone from writing it or any ship they have. I just simply don’t want to play a role in it the way I have been. I may still read it, but that’s as far as that will go, and even then, I don’t know if I will.

I’m going to delete my account, all my work and start anew. The original, non-ship work, will go on my new account. This Author Note will go on these stories for a day or two, before they will be deleted.

So lovelies, this is goodbye from Roosterbytes. I wish you all the best and hope to see you around.


End file.
